


Vanished

by eclipse447



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Deja Vu, Demon, Demons, Denial, Disappearance, Dream Demon, DreamTeam, Dreamon, Florida, Fluff and Angst, GeorgeNotFound-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Guilt, Heartbreak, Hell, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, London, Lots of Angst, Minecraft, Mystery, Pain, Paranormal, Sad Ending, Sapnap-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Shit goes down, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trauma, abandoned house, clay is friendly, familiar feeling, minecraft youtubers - Freeform, moves to london, nosmut, sapnap goes missing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse447/pseuds/eclipse447
Summary: Two years ago, Nick went missing while exploring an abandoned house with George. After the disappearance, George moves to London to get away from the ghosts of his past. However, someone at his new job looks strangely familiar...!! DISCONTINUED FOR NOW !!
Kudos: 47





	1. Don't Die

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i hope everyone is doing good!!
> 
> you guys can call me eclipse or madz and i'm writing this story for school so i thought i may as well upload it here.
> 
> weekly uploads are my plan at the moment, and I'm hoping for each chapter to be at least 1000 words, but it may change since i aim for quality over quantity :)
> 
> it could get a bit boring at times, mainly from chapter 2-4 , but i have something big planned after that so be prepared >:)
> 
> no shipping either. if it's implied than oops, but im planning on keeping it platonic. i tried to write a ship once, it didn't go well for me.
> 
> uh idk what else to say so i hope you enjoy! :)

"Come on, Dar. It's gonna be so much fun." I plead, desperately trying to convince him.  
"No way, that's dangerous and you muffins are gonna get hurt" Darryl retorts, Zak nodding in agreement.  
"Fine, well George and I are still going because we're not lame," Nick says, attempting to bully them into coming, but I try a different approach.  
"No, Nick, it's okay, I guess they don't wanna hang out with us. We're not good enough for them," I say in a sad tone with the intent to guilt trip like hell.  
"No, I'm not dealing with this, we're not going to some abandoned house to get killed or something. No way." Zak is stern, clear there was no changing his mind. Darryl hums in agreement.

I look at Nick and sigh loudly, bidding goodbye to our friends before heading back to his car, laughing our asses off. Nick pulls out the keys to his Jeep and unlocks the doors before clambering in quickly. Nick laughs at me as I try to pull myself into the car by using the handles on the roof. I barely hear him calling me short amongst the obnoxious laughter. I mutter that I'm not short, slumping into my seat with a pout, which sends him off more. With a sigh, I plug my phone into the aux and play my 'bangers' playlist as Nick rolls the windows down. 

It's a warm autumn's day in Florida, hot enough to have the windows down but not enough that we're melting. We decide to visit the house at dusk for the added 'spook factor' as Nick called it, so we had some time to kill before then. Nick pulls out of Darryl's house that we were all hanging out at and drives in the direction of town, hoping to find somewhere to eat.

The atmosphere was so carefree, us cracking jokes and singing way too loud the whole time. As a song concludes, Nick pulls into a chick-fil-a drive-through and proceeds to order as I turn the volume on our music down, wanting to keep at least a little pride. He orders a lot more than we need before pulling into the waiting area and cranking the volume back up. After waiting way too long for our food, a lady with brown hair brings out a large bag and two drinks to our car. We pull out of the restaurant quickly, but not before taking note of the sour expression on the workers face as we resume singing and yelling. I ask him to drive to the beach nearby to watch the sunset, to which he agrees without hesitation.

Sitting on the hood with our food spread out across it felt perfect. Nick and I hang out together almost every day, and it never gets boring. He's been my best friend for years, and I don't know what I would do without him. It's like we always have something to say; he can always make me laugh. I smile gratefully in his direction, making sure he notices before I turn my attention to the food.

It's gone way quicker than I'd like to admit, leaving us to lean gently against the windshield and admire the sunset over the water. Although I can't see the colours properly, I just know it looks beautiful. I sigh a bit louder than intended and try to imagine what it would be like to see colours, unaware that Nick had slipped off the roof and into the car until I hear a door slam, bringing me back from my trance. I look over to him, seeing him holding a box. 

No words are spoken as he shoves the box towards me eagerly with a small smile. I grab the box, slightly unsure of what was happening. I lift off the top of the box and gasp at the enchroma glasses that were sitting inside. The absurdly expensive glasses I've been telling him about for months. My eyes widen, and my jaw drops, looking to Nick to see if this was some sort of joke. He's one of the only people who know how much my colourblindness bothers me, and I don't hesitate to rip the glasses from the box and prepare to throw them on my face. 

Nick clambers back onto the hood to sit with me, placing a hand on my shoulder comfortably. I take a deep breath in as I bring the glasses to my face, closing my eyes. I lift my head, screwing my eyes shut and turn to face the sunset. I breathe out and open my eyes. It isn't an instant thing like I thought it would be, but everything looks more vibrant than before. There were colours that used to be a sickly yellow that was now brighter, and it was beautiful. A colour that was once a deep brown was now a lot brighter and striking. Red.

I whip around to look at Nick and start to examine every feature, every colour on his clothes. He's wearing a white shirt with a flame in the middle, only now I could make out the colours of the flame. Under that, he wore a black long sleeve and ripped black jeans. Everything looks so much better, more beautiful, and I'm beyond happy. We sit in silence until the sun is long gone behind the clouds, packing up our stuff and sitting back in the car.

"Thank you, Nick, like really," I say quietly, pulling the glasses from my head and placing them carefully back in the box. He only smiles softly at me and starts the car. We resume our singing until we see the big, dark house looming menacingly in the distance.

No one truly knows what happened to it, but the story goes that there was a boy and his father there and their house was burnt to the ground, killing everyone inside. But that's just a rumour, probably started by a bunch of teens like ourselves. We park in the street, pulsing with excitement. Neither of us believes in ghosts, so all the stories and demons and ghosts were something we never really cared about.

We collect our bags from the back of his car, containing flashlights, food and other essentials. Adrenaline flows through me as we walk towards the strangely intimidating house. Standing on the steps and looking up at the vast, black building was a weird feeling. It was like my gut was telling me to run for my life, but my mind was telling me to enter. I opt to ignore my gut and place a hand on the charred front door, looking back to see Nick bursting with excitement. 

I push the door gently, and it opens with a predictable and cliche eerie creek. A wave of heat and dust hits me the second I step foot in the old house. I click on my flashlight and scan it around the front room. To the left, there was what looked to be a large living room with a few torn-up couches that had clearly seen better days. There was a cabinet on the back wall. Upon further examination, I made out what appeared to be photo frames alongside a burnt teddy bear.

I shiver involuntarily and turn my attention to the right side as Nick steps in behind me, also scanning the left side. To my right, there was no room, just a wooden dresser with nothing but a single white candle on top. Nick mumbles something along the lines of 'oh my fucking god' and I whip around to see him in the living room, examining the photos. I carefully make my way towards him, avoiding the holes in the wooden floor to the best of my ability. 

I copy him, also looking at the photos. In one frame, the glass is cracked in the corner, and a half-burnt picture of a boy lay inside. He had blonde hair, and what I assume were green eyes. He wore a green hoodie with a small smile on the front, and black pants. The blonde boy was standing in an awkward position with peace signs held up. His smile seemed as forced, but there was something in his eyes that made me shiver. It's like he was mentally somewhere else. He looked scared.

Further investigating the image, I manage to make out the rather obvious shadow of a large man holding the camera. I place the photo back down. Maybe he just hates pictures or something? I change my mind when Nick hands me a frame. In this one there is a tall man with a big, brown beard and short hair. He has a smile on his face that has a slightly sinister look to it, not quite meeting his eyes in the way it should have. The boy in this photo isn't smiling. He's looking towards his arm with a pained expression. I squint, attempting to make out what was there.

"It's blood George," Nick whispers, pointing at a spot on his arm.

Sure enough, I see a red stain on the hoodie he was wearing. The crimson blood contrasts against the light green hoodie. The older man's hand looked to be pressing on it hard, and the boy is looking at it in discomfort. What happened here?

"This is so weird," I mumble, placing the photo back on the cabinet, Nick nodding in agreement.

The rest of the photos have a similar vibe, the blonde looking uncomfortable next to a smiling man. I scan over them one more time before making my way back to the front entryway, left with more questions than answers. From there, Nick and I decide to continue, moving straight ahead and into the hallway ahead.

The excitement we both had was now replaced with curiosity and slight concern. What happened in this house? The hallway runs horizontally from the front door, so we opt to go to the left first. The first thing we notice while walking is how everything is almost entirely black and the apparent smell of smoke.

The left hallway opens into an open area. To the far right side, there was an L shaped couch with an absurdly large tv mounted on the wall. Behind was a dining room with two large tables, about a dozen fancy chairs and a large kitchen. Everything covered in a thin layer of soot from the fire. A quick look around brought up nothing but a few more uncomfortable photos of the blonde boy and candles. 

After 10 minutes or so, my attention is turned to a large cream coloured door with only a small section burnt at the bottom right of the door. I walk over to it, calling Nick to come with me and carefully place my hand on the doorknob. Once Nick is behind me, I push it open, surprised at how silent and easily it swung open. My eyes widen, and I hear Nick gasp behind me.

Inside the room was a king-sized bed, topped with multiple white pillows and a white quilt covering it. The walls were a lovely cream colour, and the carpet was fluffy and grey. Everything looked untouched by the fire. It looked like an entirely new house.

"Woah," I whisper as I take a few steps into the room, mesmerised by the difference in environments.

"Woah is right," I hear Nick say quietly, in a similar state to me.

It was crazy how normal everything looked. We didn't spend too long in that room since nothing was interesting besides the state of the room. After around 15 minutes of searching through the master bedroom, we made our way back into the wreckage of the fire. One last glance at the weirdly sinister photos and we start walking back down the hall and towards the other end of the house. 

This end has a weird vibe to it that I don't know how to describe. It's like when you know something terrible is going to happen, mixed with the feeling that someone was watching you. There are 3 bedrooms in the hall, nothing interesting in any of them aside from the last. 

In that room was a single bed, basically nothing in the room aside from an unusually large image of the blonde boy hanging above the bed. The part that caused me to shiver was the green hoodie with a small smiley face on it, folded neatly and untouched at the end of the bed.

"NICK," I shout, catching my friend's attention from the other room.

"What, what's going- what the fuck?!" he says as he sees the hoodie. The room had obviously been where the fire started since almost everything was black, but the hoodie was clean—no soot from the fire, no burn marks, nothing.

"Maybe it was left in memory of the boy? You know the one who supposedly died in the fire?" I spit out the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. Nick just hums.

We hastily leave the bedroom, feeling super uncomfortable all of a sudden, opting to forget about what we found as we see another living room at the end of the hall.

Nick and I are immediately fascinated by the expensive PC set up in the corner. It's a miracle how it hadn't been stolen. Nick walks over, blowing the dust from the top and attempting to turn it on, to no avail. He sighs, knowing it wouldn't work, but still slightly disappointed.

"It's one hell of a computer," I say, joining him by the desk.

"This shit must've cost a fortune. Wonder what they used it for," Nick replies, looking over the 3 monitors.

"Yeah, I-" BANG. I freeze and see Nick do the same.

"What the hell was that?" I say in a panicked tone.

Nick's shoulders relax. "Man it was probably a rat or something, calm down."

"I don't know man, it sounds like it came from the room,"

"Well, why don't you go check it out, find a huge mouse and then come back?" Nick says sarcastically; however, I take his advice.

"I'll be right back, don't die while I'm gone," I say jokingly, hearing Nick laugh. I turn around and begin walking back into the hallway.

A feeling of dread overcomes me as I walk to the door of the room, my mind screaming at me to get back to Nick. I ignore the feeling as I step into the small bedroom once more, almost shrieking when I see the green hoodie now unfolded and thrown carelessly to the top of the bed. The glass on the picture from above the bed had been smashed, the blonde boy's eyes were seemingly burnt. I turn around at the speed of light and run back to Nick.

"NICK," I yell at the top of my lungs, freaking the hell out. I got no reply. I step into the lounge room, and the same dread I felt earlier grows heavier, like bricks on my shoulders. Where is Nick?

"Nick, this isn't fucking funny, something happened," I look around the room, scanning for movement. "Please, we need to leave." No reply.

"Please I'm literally so serious, come here right now," I say, panic and fear overcame me. My eyes prick with tears, and I automatically start fearing the worst.

"NICK PLEASE," I cry out hopelessly, tears falling as I run around the living room. I start looking behind the couches and under the desk, praying to see him hiding there laughing at me.

I scream his name at the top of my lungs, running into rooms we hadn't been in yet and old places, hoping this was some cruel joke. I was gone for a minute, how the hell did he go missing in a minute?

Wracked sobs escape me as I run around screaming his name for forever before I finally gain enough sense to call the police.

They searched for months.

They looked everywhere.

There were no leads.

They found nothing.

He was gone.

My best friend was gone.


	2. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 years later...

Nervous. I am nervous. I look in the mirror one last time, adjusting my white shirt and straightening my jeans for the hundredth time today. Today is a big day for me, and I can't screw this up. Someone about my outfit doesn't look right, but it could be the fact that I've been staring at it in the mirror for an hour. 

I lift my wrist up to my face, staring blankly at my watch and allowing my brain to process the numbers. I almost scream as I realise I need to leave asap if I wanna get there on time for my first day.

After two years of study, I'd finally gotten my dream job. I can't screw this up. I rush from the bathroom, practically sprinting to get my bag from beside the door. I search through the bag quickly, triple-checking I have everything I need before waving goodbye to my cat, and locking the door behind me. 

My workplace was a 10-minute walk or so from my house, meaning I would arrive slightly early. I step through the exit door of my apartment complex and breathe a sigh of relief—cold air filling my nose with a faint scent of petrol and last nights rain. A smile falls upon my face before the nerves take over again. I take a deep breath, trying to shake away the new anxiety that made it's home in my chest. 

It wasn't freezing, but not warm by any means. However, warm enough to not need a jacket, so it's bearable for London weather at least. I look down the street to check for people in the way and head eastwards. There weren't many people out which was surprising for London, but I quickly shrug it off. 

I fall into a rhythm of steps, almost hypnotic. In my trance-like state, I fail to notice the man standing still in front of me with a glass in his hand until my face collides with his chest hard, knocking him backwards, momentum bringing me down on top of him. My eyes widen as I realise the awkward position we landed in.

I had my hands on his shoulders and my right leg between both of his. He was laying on his back with his right arm are underneath him in a failed attempt to catch himself. The glass he once held was now shattered to pieces beside him. His left hand landed on the glass, causing small cuts and blood to leak out slowly. Our faces were dangerously close, leaving me to stare into his piercing, green eyes. He stares back a moment before wincing in what I believe to be pain. I come to my senses, scrambling to stand up and practically shouting a string of apologies. He stands up with a groan, looking to his injured hand and sighing. 

He wipes his hand on his lime green shirt and straightens it out in an attempt to look formal. I take a moment to look over him, still apologising. 

The man was a lot taller than me, probably around 6'3 and had dirty blonde hair. It was fluffy and looked like he just brushed it. He had a casual outfit that still came across as formal looking, with a green shirt and black jeans. I notice the rings on his fingers that were shining slightly as he lifts his hand to fix his hair.

"I'm actually so sorry, I should've been paying attention," I say for the hundredth time in the last 30 seconds.

"No, no it's okay really," his voice had a strong American accent, catching me off guard slightly.

"You're bleeding Sir," I push, feeling awful for injuring him. He laughs a little.

"A little blood never hurt anyone, now are you ready for your first day at DreamCorp?" he replies casually. My jaw drops, causing him to chuckle again, a sweet sound.

"Wait, oh god I feel worse now, crap I-," I start rambling, not realising I had just knocked my boss, no, my idol over. He laughs again, soft and sweet.

"No, really it's fine. Shall we head inside?" He asks gently, gesturing to the building in front of me. I nod quickly, feel extraordinarily embarrassed and guilty. He seems to notice, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking down to me slightly.

"It's seriously fine, accidents happen okay?" I nod again, not breaking eye contact.

"Alright, let's start over then," He holds out his right hand. "I'm Clay, and I'm the founder and owner of DreamCorp." I grab his hand and shake lightly.

"I'm George," I reply, taking a moment to look over his features. His cheeks are dusted with heaps of freckles and have slight dimples when he smiles. Something about him feels odd, giving me a weird feeling of deja vu. I shake the thoughts away. Clay looks like every basic blonde white guy, of course he looks familiar. That has to be it, right? Right.

He nods excitedly and turns around, beckoning for me to follow. I comply, trying to shake the weird feeling I have in my stomach. I follow behind him, glancing over the looming building in front of me. The outside is a dark grey colour, very plain and simple. It has multiple floors from what I can see from the layers of windows. There are at least 3 floors to the building and a big, lime green and white DreamCorp title with the company logo next to it. There is a small staircase which Clay is leading me towards, and a big glass door at the top. 

We reach the door, and Clay swipes a keycard. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, from both the nerves and the embarrassment from the previous event. My hands are sweating and slightly shaking, so I clasp them together in an attempt to calm them and myself and look more formal.

We step through the door, and I immediately notice the strong scent of paper and what I can best describe as old clothes. The building is also pretty hot, but since it was cold-ish outside, this makes sense. We walk down a long corridor with haste, and everything appears to be prestigious and relatively fancy. 

The carpet in the hallway is fluffy and red, while the walls were a similar grey to the outside. For an office building, this place was the next level. Clay swiftly walks through the hall, and I struggle to keep up with his long legs. He stops abruptly, almost causing me to knock him over for the second time today. He notices and apologises with a sympathetic smile, causing me to blush slightly.

"This is your office," Clay says with a cheery tone, gesturing to the room me stopped in front of that I just now notice. He hands me a keycard, and I swipe it at the door before pushing it open. This room has a different feel.

This room is slightly colder, but that's expected. It smells fresher and more like pine, which I'm assuming is from the cleaning supplies. I step inside, looking around the room and taking in every detail. The space was pretty empty, but since I just got here, this is expected. On the right side, there was a large bookshelf that was almost entirely empty. There is a desk with an impressive looking computer on it in the centre. Clay begins to explain the rules of my job as I stand mesmerised by the computer. I nod every so often to prove I'm actually listening since I know for a fact it doesn't look like it.

"Alright, that should be all so I'll leave you to it! If you have any questions, just come find me. My office is at the very end of the hall" He says happily, placing a hand on my shoulder and patting lightly. I mutter a thank you and look up to him, something red catching me eye. I spin around quickly, noticing his left his still bleeding slightly from the glass.

"Clay, you're still bleeding," I say, concern filling my chest. He laughs it off, grabbing his right arm with his left and looking towards his hand. I can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about him. I feel like I've seen him before.

"Really George, it's fine. You get started, and I'll go clean myself up," he retorts with a light chuckle, swiftly saying goodbye and leaving my new office.

I watch him leave, gently closing the door behind him. That man gives off the calmest and most pleasant vibes, which is why I assume his company has taken such flight in recent years. 

Now that I'm alone, I sink into the overly comfortable chair at my desk and reflect on what just happened. I read online that the whole company was brought from the ground up by Clay and Clay only. Apparently, he started off as a freelance coder but then started his own company 2 years back, which was when I moved to England. 

Once I caught wind of a new coding company in my area, I jumped at the opportunity for a job here. I went back to university for computer science to get my mind off... things and set my goal to get a job here. Now that I've done it, it feels good. I feel happy. 

For the first time in a long time, maybe things can be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n
> 
> I understand some things in this kinda sound romantic but I promise it's not supposed to be. it'll make sense eventually.
> 
> feedback is very welcomed and appreciated!!
> 
> :)


	3. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and George get to know each other on a personal level and it goes great. So why does George feel so weird around him?

Two weeks. Two weeks was all it took for me to fall in love with my job. Two weeks has given me more laughs than the last two years, and I owe a lot of that to Clay. Clay has been the most welcoming boss I could've ever asked for. He's been helping me adjust to my new job and has been teaching me a lot about coding and computers that I never learnt in school. Clay is undeniably sweet and knowledgeable, but he looks younger than me. 

I've been thinking about him a lot ever since I met him. He has a familiar vibe to him, and I can never shake the feeling that I've seen him before. It's like he never leaves my mind and I can't stop thinking about how nice and friendly he's been. He's a genius who looks to be the very early twenties. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not surprised he's created such a successful business from the ground up, since he seems more than qualified.

I turn the tap off in my bathroom and pat my face dry with a towel. I look up to the mirror and examine my outfit, frowning a bit once I see the watermarks on my shirt. I sigh loudly and pull it over my head, leaving the bathroom to grab a new shirt from my room, and pulling a sky-blue hoodie on as well. Mornings are the worst for me, especially since I've got a full-time job. As much as I love my job, I'll never enjoy waking up as the sun rises. 

I walk sluggishly to the kitchen and let muscle memory take over to make my cat his breakfast. He meows quietly at me, snapping me from my trance for long enough to place the bowl on the floor. Once he's happily eating, I throw some bread in the toaster and lean against the cabinets waiting. It's days like these that I wish I liked coffee.

In a groggy haze, I devour my breakfast before finishing my morning routine and leaving the apartment. I walk into the hallway and dart towards the elevator, almost missing the big, red 'OUT OF ORDER' sign on the door. Sighing for the millionth time this morning, I hesitantly take the stairs. I step outside, slightly out of breath and almost kick myself. It's raining, are you kidding me? I could go back inside and get my coat, but that would mean I have to walk up all those stairs again. With my apartment being on the 5th floor, that would be awful. I could just walk in the rain and take off my hoodie when I get there so at least I look dry-ish. Sounds like a plan to me. 

However, the second I step into the rain, I regret everything. It's not raining hard, but it's enough to get wet very quickly. There's no turning back now, so I speedwalk down the street, which soon turns into a run, with evolves into a sprint. 

I'm at my work in no time, out of breath and dripping with water. I pull the door open and scramble inside, barely seeing Clay, who was sitting on the couch in the reception. I only really notice him when I'm greeted by his iconic wheezy laugh that I've grown to love over the past few weeks.

I sink against the door and bring my hands to my face, slightly embarrassed. Clay just laughs harder, struggling to breathe at this point.

"It's not that funny idiot," I grumble, looking up from my hands. He puts the book he was reading down on the couch beside him and stands, walking towards me.

"It's pretty funny," He giggles, trying to gain some composure. He reaches a hand to help me up. I smile a bit and take it, letting him pull me up.

"So why didn't you bring a jacket? It's been raining all morning," I debate telling him the truth.

"Uh, I forgot it," I go with. Clay seems to be content with this and nods his head.

"Come to my office, I have spare clothes if you want them. They're too small for me so they'll fit someone as short as you," he says nonchalantly. 

I roll my eyes in response but follow him down the hall. I've only been in Clay's office once, and that was only for a few seconds when I needed help with something. Now that I'm back, I take a minute to look around the place, examining every detail. The back wall was a lime green colour, with the word 'Dream' in black letters across the top. 

The room was huge and carried the lime green theme across it in the form of little nicknacks and doors. His desk was pretty big with another fancy and expensive-looking PC on top. I watch him quickly move to the right side where there was a big lime green door. He pulls it open and steps inside, an automatic light turning on as he enters. I follow, lagging behind a bit to peek inside.

He stood at the far end of a massive storage closet, the back end filled with clothes and the shelves on either side lined with other nicknacks and computer things. He crouches down, opening a drawer I didn't notice, and pulls out a pair of black trackies and a green hoodie. I shudder involuntarily, a weird feeling falling over me. I shake it off when he stands with a smile and tosses them to me. I barely manage to catch them, too busy being lost in my thoughts, and Clay laughs at my misfortune. 

"Use the bathroom over there," he points to the other green door opposite the closet. I nod and thank him, rushing towards that green door. His bathroom wasn't anything fancy, but it did have a shower and bathtub. He could live here if he wanted too. Albeit, he might actually live here, and I just didn't know. It would make a lot of sense. I get lost in my thoughts again as I change into the clothes Clay gave me, pleasantly surprised by how well they fit. I look in the obnoxiously big mirror and smile a bit, pleased at how this colour looks on me. 

I quickly wash my hands and leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Back in the office, I see Clay sitting at his desk, typing away on his keyboard, eyebrows knitted with focus. Something about his face sends shivers up my spine, but I shake it off. I wave to him and mutter another thank you and goodbye. He glances up with a smile, saying goodbye and asking me to close the door behind me. I do just that, walking back towards my office with my drenched clothes in hand. I close my own door behind me and collapse into my chair, dropping my wet clothes to my side. 

A few hours into my shift, there's a knock at my door. I yell for them to come in and look up to see Clay walking in. He sits down in the couch near the door that I was recently given, and I turn my full attention to him.

"So," he begins, hesitating and playing with his hands. "This may sound a bit weird to you, but it's kind of a normal thing for me."

"Just spit it out Clay, come on," I say jokingly, earning a small laugh from him.

"Well, I like to get to know a lot of my employees on a personal level to find the best way to help them and support them or whatever. Plus it's better for the business in my opinion," he nervously scratches the back of his neck, "so I was wondering if you wanna come to get coffee with me sometime?"

What he's saying makes sense in my head, plus Clay is an amusing person and just enjoyable to be around. I can definitely see myself getting along with him, so I nod.

"Yeah I think that'd be nice," I shoot him a smile.

"Awesome! Do you maybe wanna go after your shift?" Clay asks nervously.

"Clay relax, you sound like you're asking me on a date," I laugh. "I'm free after my shift so yes, I'm down."

"Okay cool, um there's a cafe that I often go to not too far from here, so I think we should go there," he says with a laugh, shoulders relaxing as he stands to leave. I agree with him, and he leaves my office after a quick goodbye.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clay holds the door open for me, and I step inside. The cafe he chose was quite cosy, and he'd been telling me he took a lot of his employees here. A sort of tradition, he called it. He sits at a table, and I follow, looking through the menus and chatting about random things. Once we order, I feel compelled to ask Clay about himself.

"So Clay, tell me about yourself," I begin. He leaves forward, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands.

"What do you wanna know?" He asks curiously.

"Oh you know, fun facts, hobbies, childhood, the basic stuff really." I push. He looks a bit hesitant, glancing to the side for a moment but starts anyway.

"Well, my name is Clay. I'm 20, and I enjoy coding and playing video games. I also like making music, I play the guitar. Uh, my childhood was nothing.... special, I guess." He pauses, giving me a chance to ask questions, or so I assume.

"Wait hold on, you're 20?! And you started one of the quickest growing businesses in England at 18?" I ramble, jaw on the floor.

"Well I was technically 17 still, but yeah I guess?"

"Clay, what the actual hell? You're a freaking genius!" I practically yell.

"Well uh, thanks," he laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "So uh, why did you wanna work here I guess? And you can answer that properly now since we're talking as friends rather than co-workers."

I smile. Friends. "Well I've always had an interest in computer stuff, and I moved to London around the same time you started your business. I decided it would be a good job for me, so I went back to school for computer science which gave me the qualifications to apply here."

"That's awesome," he smiles brightly. "Why did you move to London?"

Oh.

I should've predicted this. Clay must've noticed my face drop at the question since he immediately starts backtracking.

"Wait no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You don't have to answer that one if you don't want to." I smile slightly at his attempt to cover up his mistake. It's nice.

"It's okay, I moved because of personal reasons." I decide to go with. He nods slowly, cheeks red from embarrassment.

Our food finally arrives, and we flow back into casual conversation, the previous incident leaving my mind altogether. It's really lovely to be out and talking with Clay as friends rather than thinking of him as my boss. Refreshing even. We speak for hours and get to know literally everything on the surface level. We find we have a lot in common and I really enjoy his company. Finally, we bid farewell and head our separate ways. I was kind of sad to end the conversation, but it was getting late.

This was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n
> 
> 1910 words
> 
> shits about to get real :eyes:
> 
> feedback is very welcomed and appreciated
> 
> :)


	4. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> memories become overwhelming late at night.  
> (last filler chapter)

A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I breathe a shaky sigh. I swipe at the tears as they begin to fall faster as more memories hit me. I miss him. I sit up and snatch the photo frame from my bedside table, ignoring the bright number on my clock flashing 4:36 am. It was an old-ish picture of two boys, myself and Nick. We were both 16 in the picture, and it was our last picture together before… well, yeah. My thoughts wander back to that day. 

The last day I’d ever seen my best friend. The flash of the camera as we took our last picture together. Nick was wearing his classic white shirt with a flame on it, and I was wearing a blue shirt. We had our arms around each other, smiles bright and innocent. Naive. Life was easy for us, so we took a risk at Nick’s expense. It was my idea to go to the house. It’s my fault.

My breathing speeds up, only allowing me to take short and shallow breaths. My hands shake, teardrops falling onto the framed memory. Nick’s smile taunts me, and the more I stare, the more sinister it becomes. He blames you. I drop the frame and clutch my head, feeling the migraine creep in. I can’t think straight, and my head becomes filled with thoughts of Nick. Whatever happened, I hope he wasn’t in pain. If he’s still alive, I hope he’s safe.

Now that I think about it, I never contacted Nicks family after I left, meaning he could’ve come back and I never would’ve known. Surely, he would’ve contacted me. He blames you. Right. Nick would hate me after what I did. I can’t forgive myself for leaving him alone; I knew something was wrong, and I did nothing.

My vision becomes a blur of colours, blue and black, causing my head to spin and making me dizzy. I sway to the side slightly, letting myself fall onto the mattress. Pathetic. I pull my knees to my chest and lose control, sobbing uncontrollably. I try to get my breathing under control again, but everything I try makes it worse. I can't think. My eyes naturally drag towards the box, sitting on the desk at the far side of my room. 

The day Nick gave me the glasses was the first and only time I ever wore them. It now feels like a crime to enjoy the world in colour while I'm the reason Nick sees in black. Visions of the time we spent together flash past my eyes, bringing up things I'd wish I could forget. Nick would hate you now. After what you did, who wouldn't? 

"Why couldn't it have been me," I whisper, choking back a sob.  
I talked to Clay about Nick once after knowing him for a few months. He came over to my apartment and saw one of the many pictures I keep of him, so I spilled my mind to him. He seemed pretty shocked at first, and looked slightly guilty or empathetic, before dragging me into a hug while I cried onto his shoulder. Clay is so easy to talk to and anyways knows the right thing to say in every situation. I guess that's part of the reason he's such a great businessman. He's been so supportive of me and helped me a lot since I never truly moved on. Instead of sitting it out and putting up with the pain, I left. I kept myself in denial for 2 years because I didn't want to accept that the sunshine in my life was taken from me. And it was all my fault.

“Why couldn’t it have been me,” I say louder, drawing my pillow to my chest and clinging on as if my life depends on it. Out of instinct, I reach over and grab my phone from the bedside table and dial a now-familiar number. It’s happened so many times at this point that it’s become muscle memory. It rings for a bit before I snap out of my trance and realise what time it was. The numbers showing almost 5 am taunt me like the demons of my mind as I listen to the consistent ringing of my phone. I close my eyes tightly, trying to suppress more tears to no avail. I take in a shaky breath which evolves into more sobs. I don’t notice the ringing subside until I hear a tired voice call my name from my phone.

“George?” a deep voice questions, filled with sleep and concern. I freeze, forgetting how to speak and biting my tongue.

“George, what’s the matter? It’s okay, everything is okay. I’m here now,” Clay speaks gently through the phone. I hear some rustling from his end, assuming he’s sitting up to give me his full attention.

“I just,” I’m cut off by a loud sob, causing my hands to shake, dropping my phone as a result. I cover my face with my hands as the crying starts back up.

“It’s okay, take your time. I can just talk to you for a bit while you calm down if that helps?” I mutter a quiet yes please, and he does just that. 

He doesn't talk about anything in particular, but Clay's voice has a calming quality, one that can put you to sleep and fall in love with instantly. It's not long before I can control my breathing; however, the tears are still coming down my face like waterfalls. Still, it's progress.

"Are you okay now?" He questions.

"Not really," I take a shaky inhale, "I really miss Nick, Clay. I feel like it's my fault. Maybe-"

"George no. I've told you this before, and I'll repeat it again. It's not your fault, and it never was. No one thinks it is. What happened was a crazy… accident and was never your fault." He responds, cutting me off. "Now what's on your mind?"

Dear God, here we go.

"Clay, you're literally the one person I've gotten close to in the past two years, and I don't want anything to happen to you too. You're my best friend, and I don't wanna lose you too," I say almost incomprehensible, surprisingly feeling a weight lifted from me now that I've finally said it out loud. I make out a quiet 'oh' coming from his end before he falls silent for a moment.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, George. I promise." He mentions, sincere.

"You promise?" I ask, feeling small.

"I do. George you've become one of my best friends too and I would never leave you even if I was sent to hell," he says, half-jokingly. I chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, you should get some sleep," his laugh echoes through my phone, forcing a smile on my face as per usual.

"You didn't wake me up, it's okay," my jaw drops.

"Clay it's 5 am? Go to sleep please," he laughs once more, soft and comfortable.

"I'm fine. My sleep schedule is wack anyways," he adds casually.

We fall back into somewhat normal conversation for a bit before he leaves me to sleep. I place my phone on the nightstand, my eyes naturally drawing towards the picture of Nick. I sigh and look at it for a moment, but ultimately decided to lay it face down on the table. I can’t look at that right now. I need to get over this because it’s really coming back to bite me at this point. A soft ding rings from my phone, filling the quiet room.

Clay 5:12 am  
Hey, come to my place tomorrow morning and we can hang out :)

George 5:12 am  
I’ll be there, thank you for tonight and you get some sleep dickhead

Clay 5:13 am  
Nah I’m busy but you sleep well Georgie :D

I smile at my phone. I don’t deserve Clay, but I have him, so I need to make the most of this while I can. The smile stays plastered across my face as I fall under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shits about to go down and I'm very excited >:)  
> I'm actually on a school camp for the next week so the next chapter may not be on time, but I'll try my best!!


	5. Hoodie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now we arrive at the beginning of juicy juicy angst >:)
> 
> george goes to visit clay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // vomit and panic attack 
> 
> majority of the chapter. It's not too descriptive :3

Clay 9:56 am

You can come over anytime, I’ll just be in my room when you get here

George 10:00 am

Sleeping I hope :/

Clay 10:01 am

Nahh im woking on something. Sleep is irilevant anyways

working*

irrelevant*

lol

I sigh, putting my phone down and continue getting ready, chuckling slightly at my boss/best friend's terrible sleep schedule. I wonder what he's working on? I follow the same routine I usually do, before waving goodbye to my cat and heading outside. I opt to leave a bit early so I could buy some snacks and stuff to bring over. I found a lovely family-owned bakery on the exact pathway to Clay's place, close to my work which is perfect. 

It's chilly today, wind nipping at my face like a hungry piranha. I pull my hoodie sleeves over my hands and wrap my arms around my body to generate warmth. Grey clouds blanket the sky, wrapping London tightly in a hazy cover. The walk to Clay's apartment is pretty close to my work, only a 20-minute walk or so. 

The streets are close to empty, which isn’t surprising for a Wednesday afternoon in my area. Especially when the sky looks like it’s going to open up at any minute. The only people out are a few families rushing home to escape the inevitable rain and some people in suits, seemingly focused on their destination and paying me no mind as I stroll lazily through the streets. My shoes slap against the concrete walkway loudly, engulfing me in an echo. 

Everything feels slow as if father time is holding the dial and preventing minutes from passing. I’m hyperaware of every noise and every movement. The fly buzzing around my head, or the faint dripping of a leaking pipe in the distance are obvious and headache-inducing. I feel numb, and I can’t figure out why. I pause for a moment to breathe, taking this second to recollect my thoughts. Inhale… exhale.

This backfires, and I feel lightheaded. It’s probably best to ignore it until I get to Clay’s place, then at least I’ll be safe. I continue walking, but the fuzzy feeling stays prominent. I pick up the pace a bit upon noticing my office building. 10 more minutes. I’m halfway there, so this is okay. I try to shake the feeling of anxiety that’s clawing at me and focus on my footsteps. I notice my pace quicken slightly, feel myself subconsciously fiddle with my sweater paws and my breathing pattern shifts. I’m so focused on walking that I almost miss the bakery, but the smell of freshly baked goods won’t allow that. 

Smiling slightly, I turn and push open the door of the small bakery, smell growing stronger as I’m greeted by the bright jingle of the bell. Said bell alerted the owner, who came to the register with a pleasant smile to assist me. I collect a few cookies, muffins and a small lemon cake from the shelves, before heading towards the counter to pay. The owner, a short man with fluffy brown hair, greets me with a soft smile. I pay for my items quickly, watching the man place my baked goods in a bag and handing it to me delicately. 

His movements are so soft and thoughtful, holding everything with such care. I smile a bit. I admire that about him. I wave goodbye before stumbling out the door quickly, tripping over myself slightly as I step outside into the cold once more.

The rest of the walk is a blur, with me only having one goal in mind. Muscle memory cuts my rhythm, bringing me out of my trance. My body pulls a sharp left, leading me to the large door of a building; Clay's apartment building. I let out a loud sigh of relief, readjusting my grip on the bag. 

I pull my phone from my pocket and open notepad, scrolling through to find the code for the door. My eyes search through the titles of my notes, before landing upon one from a few weeks ago titled 'I miss you.' I don't need to open it to be able to remember every word I wrote in that note. I shake my head and open the note below it, titled 'Important stuff'. Here I find the code, quickly typing it into the door and pushing it open with a heave. I'll never get used to how massive this door was. 

I let it fall closed behind me, flinching at the loud slam it caused. I walk slowly and laboriously over to the elevator, pressing the number 4 and watching the button light up as the door opens. Stepping inside, I sway on my feet slightly. I grab the bar on the left side to give myself a bit more stability. I'm not sure how reliable my legs are currently. I can't figure out why I feel so anxious today. A soft ding emits, informing me that I've arrived at my destination. 

The doors slide open, and I step out and into the long hallway. Thankfully, Clay's room is very close to the elevator, almost next to it, meaning before long, I'm standing in front of the large door, waiting.

I knock a few times, barely hearing a muffled reply on the third knock.  
"Door's open, come in!" I take a deep breath, push the door open and step inside the familiar house.

I close the door quietly behind me, walking to his kitchen and tossing the goods on the counter, cringing at the noise. His apartment is a similar size to mine and a similar layout. His kitchen is on the left as soon as you walk in, bathroom on the right and living room straight ahead. Yawning, I walk towards his living room and plop down to lay on the couch, pulling my phone out to pass the time while I wait for my friend. 

After scrolling mindlessly for what felt like hours, a door clicks. I put my phone back in my pocket and sit up, stretching.

"Hey!" a friendly voice calls from behind me. I stand and turn around with a smile, freezing. The colour drains from my face in seconds, smile gone instantly. I am hit with a wave of nausea, and my knees feel like they could fail me at any second. I feel cold, breath quickening. My thoughts go by a million miles a second, making excuses and theories. Trying to put a logical spin on what's happening. It's not the same one; anyone could own a green hoodie like that. 

But deep down, I know. I don't know how I do, I just know. I feel it in my gut, and if there's one thing I've learnt from the past, it's to listen to my gut. Clay approaches me with a worried expression, saying something I can't comprehend. My hearing feels as blurry as my eyes. Bathroom. 

I push Clay away, ignoring the concern etched in his expression and sprint to the bathroom, making it just in time to lock the door and empty my stomach into the toilet. I'm hunched over the toilet for what feels like forever, spilling nothing and everything into the bowl. Once my body has finished torturing me, I collapse onto the floor with my back against the cold wall, ignoring the banging on the door from who I assume would be Clay. 

My assumptions are made correct by my name being called from a familiar person. Curse his soft voice. I sigh and tell him I'm okay, and that he can go away. He doesn't sound convinced but respectfully complies after a bit of protest, leaving me alone. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, writing a mental note to wash my now vomit smelling hoodie. I need to get out. But to escape I'd have to go past Clay, and there's no way I'd be allowed to leave by using the 'I'm sick' excuse. He'd insist on helping me get better since that's just who he is. 

My eyes gloss with tears, and I look around the room, scanning and searching for things to help me. There's a window, but Clay lives in an apartment on the 4th floor, meaning it'd be a hell of a drop to the ground. There's only one option. I have to get past him. With shaky legs, I lift myself up, putting a good deal of my weight on the toilet. 

Nerves fuel through me as I approach the door and flick the lock. I hesitate with my hand on the handle, knuckles white and shaky. I open it and immediately notice a worried Clay spin around in his spot on the couch. The smile on the hoodie has become sinister, almost taunting me. He springs to his feet but I hold my hand up and gesture for him to stop.

"I'm okay, I just really don't feel well. I think I should go home," it's worth a try.

"I don't think you should be home on you're own right now, George. You're as white as a ghost," I knew this would happen. "Come lay down on the couch, and I'll go get some medicine from my room." I nod, eyes never leaving the hoodie. 

I walk over to the couch, tripping slightly on the matt. CLay reaches out to catch me before helping me lay down. I mumble a thank you, and he smiles, warm and sweet. He rolls up his sleeves, drawing my attention once again to the dreaded piece of fabric. He runs a hand through my hair carefully and delicately, then he stands up straight and walks in the direction of his room. A plan comes to mind. It's risky and stupid, but it's the only thing I've got.

Once I see his figure disappear into his room, I make my move. My legs are incredibly unsteady, and I stumble a lot as I race towards the door as quick as I can. I throw it open and close it as silently as possible, before booking it to the elevator. I spam the button, glancing back at Clay's door. This feels like a horror movie, and right now, it basically is. 

The doors open and I repeat the action to the button on the inside, sighing in relief as the doors close tightly. The metal box begins it's decent, and I shake my legs a bit, preparing them to run. Adrenaline is overtaking me now, waking me up and allowing me to lose some nerves. The second the door opens, I'm out. I slam into the heavy door, forcing it open and shut with insane speed. I take off down the street, ignoring the glances from people as I sprint by. I have one goal in mind, and it's to get home and lock the door.

I fall into the usual trance, almost crashing into a mother and her children who are exiting a store. I hear her gasp but pay it no mind. I already look like a psychopath, what does it matter anymore? Before I know it, I'm running up to the elevator to my apartment, almost crying when it opens the second I get there. I tap my foot in anticipation while I listen to the click of passing floors, sprinting out when the doors open. 

I fumble with my key in the handle, shoving the door open and throwing myself inside. I make sure to lock it tightly behind me before I speedwalk to my room. I pick up the picture of Nick, and I from my nightstand as the damn breaks and the tears begin to fall.

What happened to you, Nick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is lazily edited since it's almost 2am right now so I am very sorry about that.


	6. Paranormal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay isn't who George thinks he is... so who is he?

The tears dried up two days ago. The day I figured out it was him. My brain is telling me to think this through, that it must be a coincidence. But my gut knows, and I'm going to listen to my gut. If it wasn't him, fantastic for me. I can move on with my day like normal. But if it was, I don't know what I'd do. My hands ball into fists, nails leaving small, red half-moons on my palms. 

My eyes scrunch up with anger, frustration and helplessness overcoming me. My knees buckle, throwing me to the floor, and as I lay there like a pathetic baby, confidence takes over. I'm gonna confront Clay. For Nick. Realistically, this is a terrible idea. I'm going to a possible murderer's house to ask him if he killed my best friend. But I'm not thinking with logic. I have nothing left to live for, and right now, all I want is answers.

Without even taking my phone, I spring up and race out the door. The only thing my phone would have anyway is a low battery and the spam texts from Clay I've been listening to for days. I sprint to the elevator, ignoring the concerned looks from my neighbours. It's not like I didn't expect that. I haven't slept in days, my hair is a mess, eyes blotchy and I'm wearing the same clothes I wore two days ago.

Nevertheless, I sprint manically down the street. Fridays usually are pretty busy, but it doesn't matter right now. I weave through the crowds of people, blocking out the staring and whispering. I run faster than I ever have before, and in no time, I'm standing in front of the door to Clay's apartment building. If it weren't for the immense rage I'm feeling, I would've been embarrassed by my actions. 

I type in the code and race to the elevator, clicking the room number and waiting anxiously as I make the slow journey up to his floor. A soft ding fills the elevator, followed by the doors opening and me sprinting out. My head is fuzzy with rage, and I feel hot, but as soon as I knock on that door, the colour drains from my face, and my knees feel weak. A drop of sweat runs down my face, and I try to wipe it away. This doesn't last long, as the door swings open and one look at that man brings back all my fury. 

I shove Clay in the chest hard, surprising myself at my strength. He flies backwards and lands on the ground, arm twisting painfully underneath him, yet I feel no guilt.

"Get the fuck up," my voice is coated in malice and rage. He does as I say, scrambling to his feet and shuffling away from me. 

Clay's eyes stay pinned to the floor, and I know he's feeling guilty of something. I slam the door shut, smirking as Clay flinches at the noise. So here we stand, in the walkway to his apartment, Clay scared for his life while I'm about to snap. A new wave of anger shoots from my feet to my head, and I run towards him and push him down once more.

"I WILL KILL YOU," I scream, face read and full of rage.

"You can't," he responds in a small whisper, not bothering to get up this time.

"Why the fuck not?" I snark, slightly shocked by the sudden change in Clay's expression. What once was fear morphs to something else that I can't figure out.

"You won't believe me," his gaze raises, and I can now identify the dark look in his eyes.

"Try me," I quip, crossing my arms and maintaining my confident composure.

"Because technically, I'm already dead," it's silent for a second before I start laughing.

"Yeah very funny Clay. What, you're dead inside or something? I've heard that one before," he groans and drags a hand down his face. He pulls himself up to sit with his legs crossed and puts his head in his hands.

"It's not a joke, George. I'm a demon, not human." I laugh harder.

"Out of every excuse you come up with, that's what you go with?" I struggle to form my sentence through my chuckles. He looks at me once more dead in the eyes, and I see the glossy gaze and slightly red cheeks.

"You think I asked for this?" He whispers, my smile falling immediately.

"Wait, you're serious? There's no way, demons aren't real," I ramble, suddenly serious.  
He shakes his head, eyes lowering to the ground, saying nothing as he plays with his hands like they're the most exciting thing in the world.

“So you killed Nick for what?” at this, his head raises quickly, gaze locking intently with mine. The tears in his eyes look ready to fall at any second.

“I didn’t kill him,” I raise an eyebrow.

“But you did something?” he hesitates, but then nods, and my jaw drops to the floor.

“It was you,” I feel betrayal and anger pulse through my veins. “You took away my best friend.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Clay stands slowly, holding the wall to keep stable. “I didn’t think this would happen. It’s hard to explain and harder to understand.”

“You have a minute to explain before I grab a knife from the kitchen and drive it through your chest demon boy,” I quip snarkily.

“I’m so sorry, George,” tears begin to well in the demon’s eyes as he desperately tries to find the words. “In order to become human again, I had to trade my place with someone mortal. You were both in my house that night all those years ago, and he split off, making him an easy target.”

I feel tears prick in his eyes, teasing me. I blink them away and remain stonefaced as the demon continues. 

“I was selfish, and I regret every choice I made that night.” He looks up, becoming vulnerable. I can see the pain and regret in his expression.

“Why,” I finally speak, barley a whisper, after a long and agonising silence. “Why did you want to be human so bad?”

He immediately breaks eye contact, looking to the floor and rubs his arm shyly. Stuttering on his words slightly, “I uh, I didn’t have the best life before I died originally. I- um, oh god I-”

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” I blurt out, instant guilt falling over me upon seeing his hesitance.

“No, you deserve to know after what I did,” inhale… exhale “I was actually killed, uh by my uh, my dad when I was 16 and I really didn’t want to die that early. That house you were in was my childhood home, burnt down by my dad, effectively disposing of my body. I made a deal in the afterlife that I’d become a demon if they let me stay on earth so, uh I guess that's a very summarised version of what I did.”

He starts to sway on his legs slightly, hands visibly shaking and obviously overwhelmed, but continues anyway.

“It didn’t go how I imagined it, since I ended up looking like the classic demons you see in children’s books. You know, pointy horns, tail, huge wings and shit. After a few weeks or months of sulking in my old house, they came to see me and told me I could be human again, but at the cost of another. A trade if you will. I was stupid and wasn’t thinking straight, so I accepted and decided on trading with the next person I met. Which was Nick.”

He's just a kid. A kid longing to be alive again. A kid desperate to pick up where he left off.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea. I'm sorry for being too harsh I-"

"No, it's okay, I deserve it," he cuts me off "I made a stupid decision, and I should've known better."

"There was no way you could have known that was a bad idea. I'm sorry for continuing this but uh, where is Nick right now? Is he okay?" At my question, his expression twists, making me dread the answer.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I'm pretty sure he is safe. They said they would take the mortal and put him on display with the rest, so I assume that means like a museum thing? But I…" He cuts himself off, giving me time to absorb the information I was just thrown.

My friend is a demon; the same demon who took my best friend two years ago. Said demon just wanted a normal life, so he took Nick, and Nick is now in a museum in hell. Makes total sense. Definitely doesn’t sound like something out of a movie. Suddenly, curiosity overtakes my confusion, and I blurt out a question.

“Hey Clay, can you change into demon form or something?” he physically flinches at my question, trying to make himself look smaller as he leans back against a wall.

“I can…” he says hesitantly.

“Can you show me?” I’ve clearly just asked him something sensitive since he begins to slide down the wall and onto the floor, knees pulled up to his chest.

“I’d rather not, but if you really want to see it,” he mutters his words like a toddler who didn’t get the toy he wanted for Christmas.

“Is it something that hurts doing or something? Because if it’s going to hurt, then you don’t have to-” he cuts me off, closing his eyes and holding his hand up, signalling for me to stop.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything. It just reminds me that I’m not real,” Clay says, almost a whisper with a displeased expression strewn across his freckled face. I hold my breath, not sure what to say. He sighs and tells me to turn around, something I do without hesitation. After a minute or two of silence, he instructs me to turn back around. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

Clay still has his fluffy blonde hair, accompanied by two long and pointed horns. They’re a pretty burgundy colour, and they match the long tail that’s waving around slowly and delicately behind him. The tail curls upwards, similar to that of a cat’s with an upside-down heart shape at the end. On his hands which he’s now playing with nervously, are huge animal-like claws, seeming sharp enough to rip anything apart in a second. 

His skin is tinted red and his eyes are a bright, piercing crimson, but the most breath-taking feature are the massive, black wings protruding from his back. They look like classic fairytale demon wings, resembling bats wings with tears and cuts in them. He seems to unfolds them out as wide as possible to stretch a bit, giving him at least an 8-metre wingspan. My jaw drops at the sheer beauty of them. He pulls his wings back in behind him, rubbing his arm nervously and looking at the ground.

“Can I change back now?” he mumbles quietly and softly, reminding me why he didn’t want to do this in the first place. Then guilt flows over me.

“Yes, of course you can. I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinking,” Clay simply nods and glares at me, giving me a hint to turn around again. 

I comply, turning around and staring at his house in silence while he changes back. A question pops into my head, and once he instructs me too, I basically throw myself back around. As I’m about to blurt of my problem, I notice him curled into a ball on the ground, shaking slightly with his head on his knees. Query forgotten, I walk towards him quickly and kneel down beside him, rubbing soft circles on his back.

“George, please,” I raise an eyebrow. His voice is broken, and he sounds so defeated.

“Why can’t I be normal, George?” I find it funny how I came to this place to murder Clay in Nick’s name, and now I’m comforting him while he has a breakdown. I make shushing noises, not really knowing what to do. After a minute he seems to calm down a bit, bringing his head up to look me in the eyes with his puffy and red ones.

“I caused you so much pain because I’m selfish,” A glint runs over his eyes, his expression changing again.

“You’re not selfish, you just wanted to live Clay, you-”

“No George, people die at my age every single day. But instead of dealing with it, I ruined so many other lives.” as much as I want to comfort him, he’s got the point. I don’t know how to respond to him without lying, so I pull him in for a hug. He hesitates for a moment, before wrapping his arms around me, mumbling something I can’t comprehend.

“I’m going to get Nick back George, I’ll fix what I’ve done” he mutters softly.  
I hug him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the dialogue. i normally don't write it a lot but I wasn't sure how else to do this one  
> anyways... plot twist :)


	7. Pathos

_Fire. The one thing that stands out to me is the mass amounts of heat licking the walls around me. I turn around slowly, taking in my surroundings. Lines of flames surround me from both sides, but I still feel cold. I wrap my arms around myself. I know this is a dream, but why? I turn around and see a door on the back wall, my legs taking me towards it. I hop the long wall of flames, picking up my legs high, so the fire doesn't touch me. The handle is ice cold, and confusion flows through my body, making me shiver. I have no control over my body, yet I'm still conscious. I pull it involuntarily, eyes widen at my body's actions._

_The other side of the door is bright and is squeeze my eyes shut, making a pathetic attempt to block the light with my hands. I clench my teeth, pain overcoming my eyes from the aura. The light fades, leaving a white hue in the doorway and a distant humming noise. The colour of the door is pure, reminding me of paper._

_"Weird" I mutter beneath my breath, stepping through the door._

_As I begin to step through, I feel like I'm being pulled, causing a thick layer of anxiety to claim sanctuary on my shoulders. The room is massive and filled with colours I can't see. I assume the tall walls are a deep red, but my eyes show me a horrific brown. They contrast awfully to yellow furniture and bright yellow fire. I'm sure it looks lovely; however, I can't make any promises from my perspective._

_The sides of the room are lined with chairs, similar to the pews of an old-fashioned church. There are two rows of them, with a spacey aisle down the middle. There are more rows than I could see, and as I begin to walk down the aisle, there was no end in sight. I keep walking forward, growing more and more exhausted as I watch the endless rows of pews stretch out in front of me. I watch in a trance-like state as the same things pass me over and over. Fire, seats and walls. Fire, seats and walls. Fire, seats, cage and walls. Cage. Cage... oh._

_I break into a sprint towards the barred container, subconsciously knowing what I'll find. The cage is surrounded by a crowd of people looking similar to Clay in demon form, laughing and pointing at the box. Panic grows, and the anxiety reminds me of its inhabitance. I walk straight through the group of demons, none of them batting an eye to me. I climb the steps to the box quicker than predicted and almost scream in relief._

_Nick sat huddled in the corner of the cage, knees to his chest and rocking back and forth, muttering something under his breath. I slip through the broad bars and throw myself at him, tackling him in a hug. He was burning hot and unaffected by my embrace. I frown but leave my arms around him for my sake._

_'Nick, I'm here!" he doesn't respond to me, just keeps staring into space and murmuring. I bring my ear closer to him to hear what he was chanting._

_"Save me, George, help me," he repeats over and over, tearing my heart in two with each pathetic sentence._

_"I'm coming, Nick, I'll get you back," I whisper back, watching intently as his head turns slowly and eerily towards me. I suck in a breath. His eyes are solely black, cheeks stained in red tear stains._

_"He's coming, not you," he says, and before I can ask who, the world goes blurry and fades to black._

I throw my phone on the bed after shooting another text to Clay. Another text that will go unread along with countless others. The dream from last night had since faded from my mind, leaving me with a nagging memory I can't quite reach. I collapse backwards, crumpling onto my soft doona cover and hugging my pillow. I need to go see him, but I'm so scared. Scared that I'll snap at him, break down or try to hurt him; I'm not sure which. I'm so incredibly furious at him; however, I'm so confused. Should I be angry? I didn't believe in the paranormal, nor the afterlife and my entire outlook on everything has changed within 24 hours.

24 hours ago, I was blissfully unaware that my friend 1 had kidnapped my friend 2 because friend 1 is a demon and had passed in such a terrible way. My head hurts thinking about it. It makes no freaking sense. Demons shouldn't exist, yet I saw it with my own eyes. I can still remember his horn's details, the indents and small scars littered all over, each telling a unique story. I remember the way his tail sway gently, resembling that of a cat. But his wings stay at the front of my mind, never leaving for a second. The gigantic span of those is enough to scare me, not to mention the bird-like movements that genuinely convinced me it wasn't a prank. I've gone from a sceptic to a believer in a day.

I unlock my phone only to be met by a few of the many messages I've sent to Clay today alone.

George 7:45 am

Hey please reply to me so i know your good. It's been a while

George 8:02 am

Im kinda worried Clay, please reply

George 8:11 am

Clay, please

I sigh, closing messages and opening something else, anything else to take my mind off this. I open apps and close them immediately, mind drifting. Nothing is working in the sense of distraction, so I put my phone down. I decide on aimlessly pacing around my apartment, picking up food and putting it down straight away. I walk into rooms, turn around and leave instantly. I can't sit still for a second. Every buzz of my phone has me sprinting to it, ripping it from my bed and sighing in disappointment. _Why do I miss him?_ I want to see him, but I can't bring myself to walk out that door. I stand in the entrance to my apartment, eyes unfocused in the direction of the door. I feel that it's calling to me, begging to leave, but I can't find the motivation. I let out a loud sigh, dragging my feet along the floor and continue my pacing. I feel pathetic, but I can't bring myself to care. All I can do is think, and think, and think some more. The dream of last night sits on the edge of my subconscious, just out of reach, taunting me. If I reach towards it, it will tip too far and fall into the void of my brain, never to be found again. Defeated I embrace the feeling of elusiveness in my mind.

I begin another pacing circuit, and once I arrive at my kitchen entrance, my phone rings. I snap from my daze and sprint to my room in a flash. I fumble with my phone for a second, trying to hold my hands steady to read the caller. I almost scream when I see his name. I answer immediately, not wanting to waste any time. My heart tears in half as a wracked sob greets me.

"Clay?"

"George?" his voice is quiet, yet filled with so much emotion.

"Why are you crying? What happened?" my mind is racing. All I can think about is him and his wellbeing at this point.

He attempts to take a deep breath, but a hiccup cut him short. "Can you come here, please?"He doesn't have to ask twice being I'm putting on my shoes and sprinting out the door.

"I'm coming Clay, stay on the phone with me okay?" I plead, not caring how desperate and worried I sound.

"I can't, you'll be here soon anyway, right?" each word he utters breaks my heart more. He sounds so small, in so much pain.

"Of course, I'll be there in a couple of minutes," he hangs up, and I focus on running.

This action is becoming too familiar. Running down the street while strangers don't bat an eye at me. They're probably used to me by now as well. Anxiety is eating me alive, wondering about Clay and why he was crying. I've known the man for forever now, and I've never seen him this upset. The only times I've seen him this vulnerable both happened within the same week. Muscle memory guides me to Clay's apartment since I'm mentally trapped in thought. Before I know it, I'm here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the absence, I haven’t been in a good headspace for a while and it’s started to get to me more recently. I hold myself to a very high standard so I didn’t want to publish this until I was semi-happy with it. And if the next update isn’t on time I’m so sorry. Please bear with me :]

**Author's Note:**

> \- a/n -
> 
> feedback is very welcomed and appreciated!!
> 
> :)


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